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Published in the Capitol Guards Sentinel, September, 1998 BY THE END OF THE FIRST WEEK IN July, 1846, the last of the ten companies that would form the Arkansas Volunteer Cavalry Regiment had reported for duty at Old Washington, and while the enlisted men bivouacked and swapped stories about the romantic proclivities of Mexican women, the company officers assembled for the election of the regimental officers. Notable by his absence from the balloting was the most popular man in the regiment, former governor Archibald Yell, who had resigned his seat in Congress to come home and enlist in Solon Borland's company as a private. Since he was an enlisted man he was not eligible to vote in the regimental election, but from the very beginning it was almost a foregone conclusion that, as a leading Democrat and a distinguished public servant, he would be elected colonel. Captain Albert Pike, commanding the Little Rock Guards of Company E, was nominated against Yell, only to lose on the first ballot, but he was not too disappointed. Very well, he thought, let Yell be colonel. At least Yell had had a taste of military experience in the War of 1812. With Yell as colonel, Pike was sure that he would be elected lieutenant colonel. Again he was disappointed. John Selden Roane, the square-faced captain of the "Van Buren Avengers" and a firm Democrat, without a whit of military experience in his twenty-nine years, was elected as to the post. And when Solon Borland, another staunch Democrat, was elected as the major, Pike turned away in disgust, and a bitter resentment began to rise in him that would last as long as the unfortunate Mexican adventure.
ON JULY 18, 1846, THE ARKANSAS regiment marched south, flags waving, morale high, toward Shreveport and thence across Texas to San Antonio. Plagued by rain, the march was slowed down and the 793 Arkansas volunteers did not join General John E. Wool's army in San Antonio until August 28th. It was here that the Arkansawyers began to realize that a man can be an excellent Democrat without necessarily being a good soldier. General Wool, occupied with more important matters and anxious to whip his expeditionary force in shape for a march into Mexico, did not take time to inspect the Arkansas troops when they first arrived, and assigned them a campground on the river four miles from town. Colonel Yell quickly laid out a camp but neglected to provide for or enforce any of the field sanitation measures which should have been taken on setting up a bivouac. No one reminded him. The weather was miserably hot, and the men much preferred basking in the shade of the trees along the river and taking baths in the slightly tepid water to the onerous duty of digging latrines. While the other men were doing nothing, Captain Pike had the Little Rock Guards out in the sun, putting them through close-order drill, a discipline he refused to abandon even when the other officers permitted their men to lie about. Lacking established latrines, the Arkansas camp took on a
certain unmistakable pungency after four days, and when General
Wool, a strict disciplinarian, first saw the camp (and smelled
it), he was so offended that he immediately ordered the Arkansas
volunteers to move to higher ground. The responsibility for moving the men to the treeless ridge was subject for much discussion in the Arkansas camp, and the majority the enlisted men had a tendency to blame General Wool since they hated him anyway, considering him "aristocratic." Pike, still fuming from his losses in the regimental election, turned his bitterness to an indictment of Archibald Yell. Once, he had written that Yell was a "good, unaffected fellow," but now he described him as "totally incompetent and unable to learn" and "a laughing stock" in a letter he sent back home to Arkansas. While the army of General Wool was encamped at San Antonio, luring the hot sun and eager to get into action, General Zachary Taylor's army was moving steadily south, fighting his chief battle against inefficiency rather than against the Mexicans. So far, he had led his army deeper into Mexico, sending orders to General Wool to bring his army south to unite with the main force. BY THIS TIME, the Arkansas volunteers had been away from home for about four months, and there is nothing more damaging to the morale of an army than purposeless waiting. The Little Rock Guards, disciplined by their incessant drilling, was able to withstand the long, empty days better than the rest of the Arkansas volunteers. They fretted at the regulations imposed on them by the arbitrary General Wool, and, as a result, a number of untoward incidents took place. "Those mounted devils," as Wool described the boys from Arkansas, made life very unpleasant for him. One day, for instance, an Arkansas trooper, curious to see how the general lived, poked his head into the general's tent The general was outraged. He told the soldier to leave immediately; when that failed, Wool commanded his orderly to force him out at gunpoint. At that, the Arkansawyer suddenly leveled his musket at the general, and said, "Old horse, damn your soul, if you give such orders I will shoot you for certain." The general was forced to back down, and the soldier took his time about leaving. On another occasion an Arkansas volunteer was informed by Wool's orderly that the general thought the Arkansas camp was making too much noise and that they should quieten down. "Tell Johnny Wool to kiss our asses," the soldier snapped. On another day, one of the Little Rock Guards kept the general standing in the rain when Wool forgot the password and the volunteer refused to let him into camp without it. Perhaps some of these stories represent the sort of tales that collect after every war, but they reflect quite accurately the general attitude of bored men who had been led to believe that the war was over, only to find themselves ordered to march deeper into Mexico. ![]() The Arkansas Volunteer Cavalry regiment, (also known as theRackensackers, Mounted Gunmen, and "Yell's Mounted Devils" had two distinct periods of clothing. On the journey from Arkansas to San Antonio, the regiment had not been issued much of anything in the way of supplies from the war department. That included equipment, clothing, and weapons. The volunteer in this period would generally wear their civilian clothing and have with them the arms and equipment a civilian of that time would normally travel with. After they reached San Antonio, they received army supplies but no uniforms. They didn't receive real uniforms until they were in Mexico and had been in the service for half a year. They were actually issued standard dragoon uniforms, complete with "D" buttons and yellow stripes down the leg. The army supplies included better tents, cooking kettles, 457 carbines and accoutrements, 457 pistols and holsters, 457 sabers and belts, and 458 rifles and accoutrements with forty cartridges and two flints per gun. Half of the regiment were outfitted as mounted rifleman, and the other half as traditional cavalry. The Guards were in the group outfitted as cavalry, and Pike complained "Half the men have snaffle bits, with which a horse cannot be managed in the ranks, and saddles totally unfit for packing their baggage. The pistols given us are old, the sabres soft, and the caps for the carbines only one in two or three will explode." ![]() Because of the sickness that had reduced the strength of the companies, the Little Rock Guards were consolidated with another Arkansas company led by John Preston. Since Pike was the senior captain, he was placed in command of the enlarged group and ordered to escort the army engineers a hundred miles west to Santa Rosa, to lay out the route and campsites for the main army, which would follow shortly. The Little Rock Guards rode into Santa Rosa with sabers drawn, expecting to encounter bitter fighting at any moment, only to find a mud village as dreary and as passive as Presidio. They camped there a week until the main army could catch up with them. After a brief camp at Santa Rosa, Wool moved his army to Monclova. The soldiers felt certain they would run into Mexicans on the Monclova road, and they looked forward to a rousing fight. "We had about three thousand troops," one of Pike's men wrote, " and felt able to whip any troops that could be brought in this part of the country." Again there was no opposition. The army rested for a month near Monclova and then new orders came from General Taylor for Wool to move his force to Parras, 120 miles west of Saltillo. In the next few weeks, the soldiers might very well believe there was no Mexican army at all and that the whole war was a great fictional conspiracy designed to keep them marching from place to place. They arrived at Parras without finding a trace of the enemy, and then, on December 17th, they marched again as Wool received orders to move to Saltillo to reinforce General William J. Worth in the face of an imminent attack. As Wool moved out of Parras, he sent Pike and his men on a forced march to the village of Agna Nueva, twenty miles south of Saltillo on the San Luis Potosi road, on an intelligence mission. It was rumored that the Mexican army was grouping south of San Luis Potosi and that they would have to follow this road to attack the American armies camped at Saltillo. Pike learned nothing at all at Agua Nueva, and when he reported to Wool at Saltillo he could only repeat the rumors he had heard. According to these rumors, the Mexican forces were gathering below San Luis Potosi under the personal command of the wily General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, the same general who had massacred Texans at the Alamo and had been defeated at San Jacinto by Houston, only to slip away from exile in Cuba to mass the armies of Mexico against his lifelong enemies, the Americans. After he had reported to Wool, Pike was sent to an outpost in a narrow Las Palomas, a few miles outside Saltillo, where his men relieved a Kentucky cavalry regiment guarding this point. In the opening days of 1847, all the Americans, from the generals to the enlisted men, grew extremely edgy as day after day by with rumors of an impending battle, and still no sign of the enemy. The strain was too much for some of the Arkansas boys under Colonel Yell who broke away from camp one night and rode into the village of Cantana where they slaughtered several civilians suspected of murdering one of their fellow soldiers. The avenging troopers could not be identified, and General Taylor, taking time out from his preparations for an engagement with the Mexican army, stormed over the murder of the innocents and threatened to discharge the two companies of Arkansas volunteers involved in the episode. Only the fact that he would need every man he could muster to fight Santa Anna made him reconsider. The investigation proved fruitless, and the matter was dropped. The rumors had caused a different kind of trouble for Major Solon Borland and his men. He had taken a scouting party south of Agua Nueva on the San Luis Potosi road to see if he could find the enemy. Finding no trace of the Mexican army, he had discounted the rumors and made a night camp without flanking his position with pickets. The next morning he awoke to discover that during the night the Mexican army had advanced around him. He was surrounded, with no opportunity for a fight. With thirty-four of his men, Major Borland was taken prisoner. To minimize the unnerving effects of this waiting period, Pike kept the Guards at Las Palomas busy with a full round of military activities from inspection at reveille to a dress parade at sunset, and when the battle finally started, his men were ready for it. Although the rumors of Santa Anna's advance circulated constantly during late January and early February, it was February 20th before the Mexican general made his move toward Saltillo. His massed armies moved very slowly up the San Luis Potosi road, preceded by American scouts who galloped back to Agua Nueva, where Taylor had established his headquarters, to inform him of the advance. Taylor had approximately 4,700 men, and from his scouts he learned that Santa Anna's force outnumbered him three to one. (Later, a number of soldiers who fought against the Mexican army estimated it at 21,000 men.) Taylor did nothing when he received these first reports, deciding to wait to see what Santa Anna was going to do. He almost delayed too long, for the next day (February 21st), more scouts rode into Agua Nueva with the news that 2,000 Mexican cavalrymen under General Mifion were riding through the mountains to the east, by-passing Taylor for an attack on his supply base at Saltillo. Taylor knew he could not hold Agua Nueva, for it was in an exposed position, and now, faced with a hasty strategic retreat up the road into the mountains near Saltillo, he could carry only part of his supplies with him. He ordered the rearguard to burn the rest. The billows of smoke from these expensive bonfires climbed into the sky behind him as he raced to the north, looking for a place to make a stand. He brought his army to a halt at the hacienda of Buena Vista, a cluster of Mexican ranch buildings on high ground. It afforded (or so he thought at the time) a perfect defensive position, for to the south was a serrated plain flanked by the precipitous walls of two mountain ranges. The plain was one to five miles wide, and the rains from the high slopes of the Sierra Madre Oriental to the east had poured down into it over the centuries to make it look like a giant washboard in which the parallel ridges were separated by deep gullies with perpendicular earthen walls forty feet high. These watercourses ran from east to west and emptied into a river at the extreme western edge of the plain. The river ran the length of the valley in a flat bedded canyon where the San Luis Potosi road ran parallel to the river between the west bank and the canyon wall. It was on this road that Santa Anna would have to come. Taylor could see no other possible route. Confidently, Taylor gathered the whole of the American army at Buena Vista, covering the canyon road with his artillery, leaving a garrison to protect the supply base at Saltillo, and sending a detachment of cavalry and four companies of infantry to his extreme left, all the way to the base of the distant mountains. Now he was ready. Let Santa Anna march his army up the road; they would never survive the pounding from the American artillery. On February 21st Pike was ordered back to Saltillo to strengthen the garrison against the Mexican cavalry, if indeed the Mexicans ever managed to get through the mountains to attack the supply base. A day later, the Little Rock Guards were ordered south to join the main force at Buena Vista, but, for some reason, they had ridden only part of the seven-mile journey before they were ordered back again. They returned to Saltillo, tied up their horses, and took positions on the rooftops around the central plaza where they would have a better view of the surrounding country. The force that General Taylor had deployed to the extreme eastern edge of the plain at Buena Vista consisted of the Arkansas volunteers under Colonel Yell and the Second Indiana Regiment. It was unlikely they would have to do any fighting at all, because they were intended as a deterrent in case General Mifion decided to cut through the mountains and attack the main American army on the flank instead of going on to Saltillo. On February 22nd, as General Taylor waited for the Mexican armies to appear in the canyon, he suddenly realized that he had made a mistake, an error that became unmistakably clear when an excited scout rode in to report. Taylor had supposed the Mexicans would come up the canyon road because that was the only possible route down a plain blocked by impassable canyons. But at the extreme eastern edge of the plain where the lateral canyons headed, they also became very shallow and flattened out, and it was up this flat strip at the base of the mountains that Santa Anna was pushing his troops. It was late in the day before General Taylor received this information. Scowling at his oversight, he now saw what Santa Anna intended to do: One Mexican force would indeed come up the canyon road, staying just beyond range of the American guns, and serving as a constant threat to keep Taylor from using his artillery elsewhere. The main attack would come from the left side. Like a chess player confronted with a totally unexpected move on the part of his opponent, Taylor now had to alter his defense, and quickly, before the Mexicans swarmed up the east side of the plain and circled behind him to cut him off from his supply base at Saltillo. To block them, Taylor withdrew part of his artillery from the defense of the canyon road and sent the horsedrawn cannons pounding to the east, supported by infantry and cavalry units. And then, as night fell, Taylor rode back to Saltillo to make sure his supply base was adequately defended. The American defensive movement continued all night as the line between the river and the mountains to the east was strengthened. Shortly before dawn, Lt. Col. Roane and four more companies of Arkansas troops joined the Indiana Regiment in support of Yell's companies at the far end of the line. In the cold high air of the mountain night, the men shivered and waited hopefully for the warm light of dawn. But the experience that awaited them at sunrise was neither warm nor pleasant, for as the first rays of the sun broke through the craggy mountains to the east, these ill-trained, poorly disciplined volunteers from Arkansas found themselves face to face with the advance guard of the Mexican army. The Mexican artillery, established on the slopes of the mountains, opened a furious barrage, the shells bursting near the American position, sending up great plumes of dirt. And behind the screen of smoke came the first wave of Mexican cavalry, the dread lancers, their bugles blowing in the shrill, wild notes of a charge. Colonel Yell did the only thing he could do at the moment: he ordered his men to fall back beyond range of the Mexican artillery to regroup and make a stand against the Mexican lancers. But once the withdrawal had begun, nothing could stop it, and it became a precipitate retreat. Panicked to wild desperation by the shells and the thundering line of horsemen in the distance, the Arkansas boys refused to stop and make a stand. Yell and Roane, chagrined and furious, fell back with their troops, trying to rally them, but for the Arkansas volunteers the war was over and they wanted no part of it. General Taylor returned from Saltillo at dawn, just in time to see the entire left side of his line crumble. The Indiana troops, who were willing to fight, were now pressed back toward the hacienda, a great tide of Mexican troops flooding in behind them as they vacated the field. The situation was desperate at this point, for there was nothing to stop Santa Anna from throwing his troops around the hacienda and containing the American army, cutting Taylor off from his supplies, and pounding his forces to pieces with artillery. But as the Mexicans pushed closer to the hacienda and the ranch buildings, Taylor put everything he had against them, including Jefferson Davis' "Mississippi Rifles" and Captain May's American regulars, supported by Pike's company, recently arrived from Saltillo. In the wild fighting, Pike had a brief meeting with Yell which
he described in a letter home: "When Colonel Yell saw us
returning from a detail of duty we had been ordered to do in
another part of the field, he seemed much elated. Calling to
me, he asked if we had come to join him. In reply, I told him
that General Wool had placed us under the command of Colonel
May. To this, Yell replied: 'I am sorry for it; but if that is
the order, it cannot be helped; but I should like to have you
with me." In time, Colonel Marshall and Colonel Yell, when their position was threatened, judged it best to retire into the plain, and did so in tolerable good order, until they came within 200 yards of the ranch of Buena Vista. Meanwhile, they were followed by several hundred lancers and hussars who came down into the plain after them. When the lancers and hussars followed down after Yell's and Marshall's cavalry, Colonel May was ordered to take his command and a piece of artillery and proceed to Buena Vista to protect the wagon trains. As we approached the village, Marshall and Yell were forming their men to receive the enemy. They waited until the Mexicans came within 40 yards, and then each man raised his carbine and fired. The fire of our men did but little harm. The utmost confusion ensued. Colonel Marshall says that his men routed and pursued a part of the enemy. The gallant officer was cool and composed and doubtless his statement is correct." But as the hordes of Mexicans charged Yell and the men he had left, there was no time for them to draw their sabers, and they "crowded and huddled together." Colonel Yell, opening his mouth to give a command, looked around just in time to see a Mexican lancer charge him. There was no time to escape, and the sharp lance caught him in the left cheek and ripped off the side of his face, killing him. Captain Andrew D. Porter of Company D, the "Independence County Volunteers," also died at the hands of the lancers as he fought alongside Colonel Yell, for during the whole battle he was suffering from a severe bout of rheumatism, and his arm was so stiff that he could not draw his saber to defend himself. Inexplicably, when the rout of Yell's company was complete, the Mexican lancers wheeled in the dust and began to retreat, and as they ran a body of American cavalry took up the pursuit. Passing near the ranch, the Mexicans were greeted with a "warm fire of musketry, which killed many of them and some of our own men in pursuit." "Just then," Pike continued, "Colonel May's command to which we were attached, came down the road at a gallop, by fours; formed platoons and halted for a moment to let the dust blow off so that we could see the enemy and not kill our own people. I had only a momentary glimpse of the enemy, who, taken by surprise at our arrival, seemed wild with fear, and, not' waiting for our charge, fled precipitately in every direction. We pursued them for some distance and then formed in line and took position on the other side of the ranch. The Mexicans made their way across the ravine to the west, descended into the cultivated plain below, huddled together there for a few minutes, as if undecided what to do, and finally commenced ascending the mountain by a narrow pass. Having, as they did, a superior force, it was incredible that the Mexicans should have failed to press their advantage to a victory, and American military historians have puzzled over this enigma for a century. Following their rout of the east half of Taylor's line, the Mexicans could have regrouped and overrun the American position; but, inexplicably, they did not. Perhaps Santa Anna lacked a cohesive strategy; perhaps he could not control his men; but for the rest of the day the disposition of the Mexican forces was highly erratic. Instead of making a concerted and decisive attack, various groups of cavalry swept singly from the hills in a series of wild charges, replete with blowing bugles and strident battle cries. One group of horsemen, for no reason at all, charged in a wide circle all the way around the American army to join the Mexican force on the canyon road below Buena Vista. Another peculiar incident concerned Colonel Jefferson Davis and his "Mississippi Rifles." Advancing in a line across the eastern plain, they were suddenly attacked by a detachment of Mexican cavalry that thundered out of the hills toward them. Davis' men stopped dead in their tracks and leveled their rifles at the approaching horsemen, becoming perfectly motionless with the quiet calm of backwoodsmen on a squirrel hunt, The Mexicans, disconcerted by this strange and motionless silence, reined their horses to an abrupt halt, openly confused, highly nervous, not knowing what to expect. For a long moment, as if time had been suspended, the two groups faced each other in perfect silence, Then Davis gave the command to fire, and the line of American rifles exploded, emptying the saddles of the front rank of Mexican cavalrymen, and sending the rest of the lancers scampering for the safety of the hills. The battle continued all through the afternoon of the 23rd, man to man in the beginning and later as an artillery duel. Slowly but steadily, the Mexicans were pushed back. As night came and the moon rode over the hills, the position of the two armies was exactly as it had been the night before. Nothing had changed except that the quiet fields around Buena Vista were now littered with dead men. Medical details carried stretchers through the darkness, tracing the moans of the wounded men who had not been found by day, and exhausted soldiers shivered around their campfires, too tired to talk, too numb to do more than sit and stare into the shadows and try to sleep. In his tent, Taylor went over his maps and shook his head, worn out, unhappy over the prospect of tomorrow's battle. The Americans would have little chance against the apparently inexhaustible Mexican reserves. They had been able, by an almost superhuman effort and at a great cost, to swing the gate shut against the Mexicans and hold the defensive line. But Taylor knew they would not be able to repeat this miracle again. But under the same moon, to the south, Santa Anna, his bad leg stretched stiff before him, was holding a conference with his field officers. The day's battle had depleted his forces more than Taylor could realize, and the morale of his men was at a low ebb. His men were tired; their stomach for fighting was gone; and the discipline in the Mexican army was so poor that no general, however popular, could compel his men to fight against their will. That will was now gone. Santa Anna had no choice. He ordered a forced march south, and the cavalry withdrew from the hills and the infantrymen slipped out of the canyon in the darkness for a long march through the chill night to San Luis Potosi. When morning came, and Taylor discovered that the Mexicans had abandoned the field during the night, he immediately fired off dispatches to Washington proclaiming with triumphant vindictiveness the victory he had won against the tremendous odds of a superior Mexican force and in spite of the meddling of the Polk administration. And the soldiers on the field celebrated with the exuberance of men awarded a sudden reprieve from battle and a victory as well. On the march back to Saltillo, the joyous men of the Little Rock Guards took great delight in needling the Arkansas volunteers who had run when the going got rough. Tempers flared, and the baiting resulted in a rash of fist fights. At last, to keep the whole army from getting involved and taking sides, General Taylor had the Little Rock Guards separated from the rest of the Arkansas volunteers. Shortly after the battle, Pike wrote two documents that were, in essence, contradictory. The first was poetry, a heroic ballad of sixteen stanzas that described the victory in glowing terms, and ended: And on the dead and dying came the evening shadows fast. And then above the mountains rose the cold moon's silver shield, And patiently and pitying she looked upon the field, While careless of his wounded, and neglectful of his dead, Despairingly and suddenly by night SANTANA fled. And thus on BUENA VISTA'S heights a long day's work was done, And this our brave old General another battle won. Still, still our glorious banner waves, unstained by flight or shame, And the Afexicans among their hills still tremble at our name. SO, HONOR UNTO THOSE THAT STOOD! DISGRACE TO THOSE THAT FLED! AND EVERLASTING GLORY UNTO BUENA VISTA'S DEAD! Now that Pike had paid his tribute to "those that stood" with his poem, he was free to turn his attention and bring "disgrace to those that fled." This was accomplished with an open letter he sent back to Little Rock to be published in the Arkansas Gazette. It was a damning document, carefully composed, written by a man who felt that the disgraceful episode could have been avoided altogether if the election of regimental officers had not been decided on political popularity. And it was on the officers that he fixed the blame. "It is a sad thing that brave men, for they were brave, should be destroyed for want of discipline," Pike wrote. He elaborated this theme and traced the lack of discipline back to the days in camp at San Antonio. "In the first place, the companies of our regiment . . . had hardly been drilled at all, except what little the company officers had done. The Colonel and the Lieutenant Colonel had never drilled them once since they left San Antonio." Under such lax commanders, it was only logical that the troops should run when they were attacked. "Had they . . . possessed that mobility and facility of changing front which only discipline could give, they could not have been routed as they were." And once the rout started, there was no hope of getting them together again because "the astonishing confusion for want of discipline utterly broke up, dispersed and disorganized their commands, so that they could not be collected together." No, it was not the enlisted men but the officers who should be blamed for this fiasco. Colonel Yell was now beyond censure. "Poor Yell!" Pike wrote. "He atoned for his error with his life. . ." Since Major Borland had been captured, the process of elimination left only one regimental officer to bear the brunt of the blame, John S. Roane, who had succeeded Yell as colonel of the regiment. Soon after he had sent this letter back to Arkansas, Pike and two dozen of his men rode across the desert to the town of Chihuahua to carry a message to Colonel Alexander W. Doniphan. The letter was published in the Gazette on April 24, 1847, and by the time Pike rode back to Saltillo in the first week in May, he found the members of the Arkansas regiment seething with resentment at what they felt was an accusation of cowardice. Pike was certain that Colonel Roane had spread the report among the men to stir up resentment against him, and so great was the resultant antagonism and so many were the threats of violence against him that he asked General Wool for a court of inquiry to settle the matter. The court convened on May 4th in front of all the officers in the regiment, and Pike expressed his opinions again, a little less strongly perhaps than he had done in his letter, but not the least bit hesitant about laying the blame for the rout to a lack of good leadership and firm discipline. He said he had never accused the regiment of cowardice, and softened the charge against Roane somewhat by saying that the fiasco had, in part, stemmed from the "1ack of military skill in the commander." Perhaps this singling out of Yell as the man to blame satisfied Roane. In any event, he announced to the court that he was satisfied with Pike's explanation, and the court expressed the opinion that the whole difficulty had grown out of a misunderstanding that had now been cleared up and amicably resolved. For the time being, perhaps it had, for the Arkansas regiment was preparing for discharge and there were arrangements to be made to get to the coast to book passage on a ship for New Orleans with connections for a steamboat journey up to Little Rock, and in the excitement of going home it was relatively easy to forget incidents that were already a part of the past In the early part of June, the boys from Arkansas received their pay and started home. As the Little Rock Guards prepared to leave Mexico, a special detail went to Saltillo to look for Archibald Yell's grave. It was not hard to find because the famous Santa Fe traveler Josiah Gregg had supervised the burial and erected a cross bearing Yell's name. The men dug up the tin coffin and took it by wagon to the port where it was loaded on a ship to be taken back to Little Rock. The first indication that Pike's dispute was still alive occurred when the steamboat carrying Pike, Roane and a large section of the Arkansas regiment arrived at the boat landing at Little Rock (Ed. at the foot of Commerce Street, where the River Market is today.) to be met at the wharf by a crowd of cheering people. One of Roane's men, a boy named J. D. Adams, was greeted by his father, who sang out in a loud voice, "I hear you all fought like hell at Buena Vista," J.D. snickered, and shouted back, "We ran like hell at Buena Vista." There was a ripple of appreciative laughter in the crowd. A few people did not laugh at all. Colonel Roane , of course, was one of them. Pike went home to rest. Almost immediately, he discovered
that he had not been the only man writing letters home. Colonel
Roane and a captain named Edward Hunter, of Company C, had published
some very damning letters in the Arkansas Banner discrediting
Pike and stating that Pike's squadron had not even taken part
in the battle of Buena Vista. Pike was incensed when he read
them. And now the bitterness he had felt since the day of the
election was renewed within him. On the 29th, Roane and his party, which included his seconds, Henry M. Rector and Robert W. Johnson, and his surgeon, Dr. Philip Burton, rode into Fort Smith to stay at the house of Major Elias Rector. Roane passed the time practicing with his pistol on the Rector lawn as he waited for the morning of the duel. On the morning of the 29th, attracted by word of the impending gun fight, a large crowd of spectators, including a group of curious Cherokees, gathered at the sandbar. The seconds had to move them back to make space for the duelists. Pike arrived with his seconds, Luther Chase and John Drennen; his surgeon, Dr. James A. Dibrell, Sr., and three friends, and assumed his position, calmly smoking a cigar. Roane, with two days' practice, was equally unruffled. The call was made, and Pike and Roane stepped forward, facing each other at a distance of ten paces, while the loaded dueling pistols were examined by the seconds and handed to the principals. Pike examined his pistol cursorily. When the word was given, be raised it with a steady hand and pulled the trigger. Both pistols fired; neither man was hurt. The pistols were reloaded while Pike calmly puffed on his cigar. The command was then repeated, and both pistols fired again. There was an audible intake of breath from the crowd, and some of the spectators swore that Roane's bullet had sizzled through Pike's heavy beard. After the second firing, Pike and Roane retired from their positions while the guns were being loaded again, and Pike sat down on a cottonwood log near the edge of the forest that fringed the sandbar, with his surgeon beside him. But now, Dr. Burton, Roane's surgeon, beckoned Dr. Dibrell to one side for a hurried conference. "Dibrell," he said, "it's a damned shame that these men should stand here and shoot at each other until one or the other is killed or wounded. They have shown themselves to be brave men and would fire all day unless prevented. The seconds on neither side can interfere, because it would be considered a great disparagement for either to make a proposition for cessation of hostilities. So, let us, as surgeons, assume the responsibility and say they shall not fire another time; that unless they do as we desire we will leave the field to them helpless, however cruel it might seem. Dibrell, although he agreed with Burton, did not know what the dueling code would say. In any event, he could not make such an arbitrary decision without first talking to Pike. Leaving Burton where he was, Dibrell walked over to the log and told Pike what Burton had said. Pike looked up at him sharply. "I want one more fire at him," he said. "I believe he has tried to kill me; I have not tried to hit him." He paused and flicked the ash off his cigar, apparently reconsidering. What had happened at Buena Vista seemed a long way off, part of a world that had little connection with Fort Smith and a sandbar in the Arkansas River. He looked up at Dibrell. "Do as you think proper," he said. "But do not by anything compromise my honor." Dibrell relayed the word to Burton, and Burton walked over to Roane. In a few minutes, Roane approached Pike and extended his hand. A flask of a Southern libation was opened and passed around, and what had happened at Buena Vista would never be mentioned by either of them again. They went back to Major Elias Rector's house together, where they celebrated the end of the war with a round of drinks and a banquet that lasted far into the night. AND SO ENDED THE GREAT ADVENTURE in the Mexican War. Lt. Colonel Roane ran for Governor in the next election and won, serving a single term from 1849 to 1851. He later became a Confederate general, commanding the district of Arkansas after the departure of Van Dorn in 1862, and as a brigade commander under Hindman later that summer. Major Solon Borland returned to his medical practice, dabbled in the legislature, and ran for Congress. At the beginning of the Civil War, he raised the 3rd Arkansas Cavalry Regiment and led it briefly, resigning for health concerns. And as it often does, the opportunity to participate in a shooting war cooled Captain Pike's enthusiasm for things military. He resigned from the Little Rock Guards after they returned home, and devoted himself to his law practice, and to representing the tribes in the neighboring Indian Territory. The Little Rock Guards returned to their pre-war routine of periodic drills, and of course an active social schedule, rightly proud of their excellent performance in the Mexican War. The realities of war and active campaigning, as well as the carnage seen at Buena Vista and in Mexico had, however taken much of the "shine" off militia service. One by one the members dropped out, until the Guards were only a shadow of their former self. Partially in response to the increasing troubles along the frontier instigated by the political disputes resulting from the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1856, efforts were undertaken to revive the Little Rock militia company. The unit's name was changed to the "Capital Guards", reflecting Little Rock's increasing stature as the seat of the State government. Gordon N. Peay, whose family owned and operated the Anthony House, was elected as their captain. The nation's growing political disputes came to a head with the 1860 national and state elections. Not only was there the national problem of a fragmented Democratic party with three candidates facing a single, viable candidate from the upstart Republican party, but State politics were in upheaval by the defeat of the old political dynasty by Henry M. Rector, who soon showed his colors as a secessionist. Even more, and larger storm clouds lay onthe horizon for the Capitol Guards... ![]()
For those fans of First In - Last Out, Cal Collier's
history of the Company's role in the Civil War, it's interesting
to compare this roster with the roster in Collier's book to see
how many family names were still on the roll when "our war"
came some 15 years later. CAPTAIN ALBERT PIKE'S COMPANY E "THE LITTLE ROCK GUARDS" YELL'S REGIMENT ARKANSAS MOUNTED VOLUNTEERS 30 June 1846 This company mustered on 31 August 1846 at San Antonio, Texas; 31 October 1846 at Monclova, Mexico; 31 December 1846 at Haciende de Patos, Mexico; 28 February 1847 at Saltillo, Mexico; 7 June 1847 at Monterey, Mexico. ADAMSON, William; Pvt.
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ALBERT PIKE AND THE MOUNTED DEVILS OF ARKANSAS |